To the Bone
by Nianko
Summary: Dean and Sam are on another hunt, but as things get more serious, and a new lead on the Deamon appears, the last thing Dean wanted was someone else to care about. RR


I had this ideia today, while listenning to "Sand in my Shoes" from Dido. I'm not sure of the entire plot yet, but the main thing is already formed in my head. The story will be in two parts, and a one-shot. I don't post very often because I never remever to do so, or I simply don't get inspired. But I will try to do so. Anyway, I'm not American, so all the information and location of cities that may be used is coming from Wikipedia, so I'm very sorry for any mistakes.

**Chapter One**

Dean Winchester looked over to the seat beside his, and watched his younger brother Sam observing the fast passing by view. In a quick glance, Dean's eyes turned to the mirror and avoided looking at his tiered eyes. His face was red and in some places swollen and dark. His eyes had dark circles underneath them, and he had a small cut on his lip.

He turned his attention to the road but his mind returned to the same place it had been a few moments ago, and where Sam's mind was. He remebered the violent fight the day before against that nasty nasty demon. The trill and rush of adrenalin after the fight always made it worth it, but after that the pain and the constant travelling made Dean wonder if it was worth it.

_No... focus Dean focus! Watch the damn road! _He pushed the negative thoughts out of hismind... or at least into the back of it, and tried to concentrate on the road ahead. It was getting dark and they weren't anywhere near... Dean picked up the paper again, harshly and dropped it.

**Layton, Utah**

He gave out a loud and deep sigh and was finally able to concentrate.

The 1967 Chevrolet Imala, as black as the night that was approaching speeded down the road as the darkness fell in the horizont, leaving Dean and Sam Winchester to their own dark thoughts.

--

Two days later, they finally reached Layton, and got themselves into an motel. In those two days, the brothers had barely spoken a word to each other, collected in their thoughts. They had read in a paper during their last hunt, that strange things were happening in Layton, Utah. Several bloody deaths, all women and all young, in locked rooms and no finger prints in any of the bodies.

Dean laid on his bed, facing the celling, outing the bright spots thatcame from the lights outside. In the near by bed, Sam was sleeping, but lightly. He hardly ever slept at all this days, so Dean tried to be as quiet as he could. He thought about going down to he bar he saw on the way into the hotel, but quickly thought against it. He was too tiered and really not in the mood for socializing. But on the other hand, alcohol would ease the mood.

Seduced by the prospect of a more cheerful mood, he got up and changed his shirt. As he did so, he saw in the mirror the reflection of his chest, and the bruises in it. It didn't really hurt, and even if it did Dean wouldn't admit it, but it looked fairly bad.

Dean rolled his eyes at himself, and got dressed.

He reached the bar, and as he opened the door he recognized the scent of alcohol, cheap cologne and ciggarets. Smelled like home. Well, no it didn't. Home smelled like pie, fresh grass and flowery perfum, that he vaguely recognized as his mothers perfum. But the scent of the bar was as pasrt of him as was his mothers pefum. Most of his life was spent there. Hunting and drinking.

He walked slowly trough the pool tables and the dacning people, galncing without shame at the girls that wore high-heeled boots and short mini skirts, and they looked back, some smiled, others winked, and some didn't even give him a second glance. One or two didn't, but we all now the hard-to-get type, Dean grinned.

He sat down in the bar, and ordered a glass of vodka. Now, that wasn't something he'd drink everyday, but he wanted something strong, so vodka was a way to go. He drank and drank, slowly but still the glass seemed to vanish far too quickly. He watched the dancing bodies around him, and allowed the old rock music fill him in, as he ordered another glass.

He was beggining his third glass, when he looked to his side and saw someone sitting. She was sitting one seat away from him, and was sitting in the edge of her seat. She looked a little unconfortable, and as the waitress asked what she wanted to drink, she spoke in a low and quiet tone. She had to repeat what she wanted four times efore her voice became more loud, and Dean could hear annoyence in her voice.

"A glass of whisky please" The please came out slowly, and purely out of habit, because there was no more peace in the face of the young woman beside Dean. He watched her with interest, and noticed that he couldn't recognize her accent.

She was wearing dark blue jeans, not too tight like the girls on the floor dancing, and a pretty flowery top, that was tied in a neat bow around her neck. The reds and oranges of the top matched with her orange converse. She didn't really look like someone ready to go on a night out, but neither did Dean, so he couldn't really complain.

Dean kept watching her, as she waited for her drink. She looked out of place and a little embareced. She observed people on the dance floor, but avoided looking at places near by, avoiding the glances from the men playing pool. She accpeted her drink quitly, once again in a low tone, as she muttured a slow thank you.

Dean only saw her face when she turned her head, and saw him looking at her. Her hair was falling from right to left in her forehead, almost concealing her left eye, and she looked Dean right in the eye. She had a sweet face, rosed cheeks, her face a little more pale then the rest of her body, Dean figured it was the make-up, and big dark brown eyes. Well, Dean thought they most have been brown because they looked black from his angle, but no living person had black eyes, only really dark brown.

She kept staring at him, until he lowered his eyes, and went back to his drink. He felt her eyes on him for a moment longer, until they went away. Feeling it was safe to look again, he looked at her. She was staring at her glass with a blank face, but as she raised her head Dean saw she had a small grin on her lips.

She caught him staring again, and her face became slightly hostile, but only for a moment before she raised her eyebrows in an almost comical way.

Dean, who wasn't in his right mind, thought it would be a good moment to introduce himself. So, he got up, and sat on the seat that was between them.

"Hey, I'm Dean"

The woman stared at him, and slowly took a sip of her drink, laying the glass down lightly. She then tried to give him a smile, but failed, giving him a nervous sort of grin.

"I'm...ahem, Joana" She coughed a little, and then tried again, this time the smile came out a little better, but still a bit fake-looking.

Dean watched her in silence drinking his vodka, and with lust in his eyes. Ah, drinks and one-night stands. That was his kind of well spent night. She was pretty enough, well-shaped, he concluded as his eyes went down to her chest, waist and legs. He looked up again, to her face and saw that she knew what he was thinking. And was unsure of what she was thinking on the other hand.

"So... what brings you to this part of town?" Dean kicked himself for his lame pick-uplines, but his mind wasn't really working all that well, so he'd work with what he had.

"Just passing by" She spoke in a low tone, her accept creeping out from her voice at the end of each sentence, in a calm manner but unsure and unsteady.

"Me too" Dean said with a small smile, as she finished his drink. He watched her drink the rest of the amber liquid in her cup.

" Anyway, where are you staying in?" Dean wasn't in the mood for small talk, and was tempted to simply ask her if she wanted to go to her motel room and have casual sex, but he had the sense that if he did so he'd end up with a red hand on his cheek and looking for another girl to get into bed.

"In a hotel" She spoke more loudly now, and in her voice a hint of amusemnt could be found. She turned her face to the waitress to ask for something but the woman just walked by.

Dean slowly raised his hand to reach for her brown hair, that had fallen into her face when she turned her head, and tucked it behind her ear. After that, she that was was now also tipsy giggled and smiled. It as a shy and small smlie. But it lighten up all her face, and eyes.

After a few minutes of small talk and a small silence, the waitress fially came.

"Would you like another drink?"

Dean and Joana looked at each other, and Dean grinned. Oh, he was so getting laid.

"No thanks" Joana answered and smiled at the waitress, who simply smiled, shrugged and left.

_Twenty Minutes Later_

Joana tried to open her bed-room door, but the feeling of the man's kisses on her shoulders was making her knees weak and her concentration fail. She kept putting the key the wrong way or not hitting the hole at all. She gather her streght to push him away slightly and open the door.

She entered the room and turned around. He was standing in the hall, with his eyes shining either from the glint of lust or from the lights on the corridor, but that really didn't matter. She pushed her book-like thoughts out of her mind, and grabbed him by the shirt, before she regretted this.

As soon as he was in the room, he closed the door, and kissed her. Roughly and without any sweetness. But with passion none the less. She could feel the smell of his cologne that ahd too much alcohol in it, cigarrets, togetherwith the scent of his leather jacket and his own personal masculine scent. She liked it.

She helped him take his jacket and t-shirt off, and he helped her take her jeans and shoes, along with her top. Soon, they were both naked, and on her bed. The smell of whisky, vodka, ciggarets, a cheap bar, perfum, everything was mized in that room that night. Her perfum and his cologne, along with the smell of the night that came in from the open window on the bathroom, turned them on. Possibly because of the effect of the alcohol in their blood.

The next morning, Dean woke up with a mild headache. He opened his eyes and raised his head to find he was alone in the hotel room, but that beside him was a big iron jar, and a small coffe mug. Along with a note, written in tight writing:

_Good morning._

_You have coffe and a pill for the headache._

_-Joana_

He stayed in bed a little longer, got up and dressed himself. He would have taken a bath, but it felt a little akward taking a bath in someone else's bathroom. He drabk his coffe and took his pill. Finally, he gave a look around.

It wasn't a cheap motel like his and Sam's, but what looked like a four star hotel, with bege colored walls, and wood floors. He noticed how messy the room was, her clothes were all laying around, and her books and stuff.

A moment before he left, he grabbed the note she wrote, and went on his merry way. He walked away from the hotel trying to remeber how he got there and how to go back to his motel. After stopping for needed directions, he found his motel and room.

Sam was still asleep, still lightly, so Dean walked as silentlyas he could to the batherroom and tooks his needed shower.

**End of Chapter**

You know the drill... R&R please. Thank you.


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